crazy
dance holiness
by Hezekiah
Allen Taylor
this morning I watched
the pale yellow light play
on the pale yellow wall
a maple tree, tiny
reflected there in negative space
blowing and dancing
in the first wind
of an approaching storm
the interplay
the give and take
reminenscent,
of you and me
symbolic, you'd say
you the light
me, the shadow
(I know. I've compared you
to the light before.
I really can't come up
with anything fucking new.)
together in movement
separated by a single, thin
dark line that says "this is"
"this is not"
it reminds me
of how I suddenly feel
how I didn't know
the outline before,
never knew the separation
and then the light appeared
and now I'll know forever
the distinction---
which is both good
and bad for me,
which makes me so very aware
and, yet, also makes me
so lonely, sometimes
because I want to be
in the light with you
but, still
there's that line
that goddamn
permanent
forever
sort of
line
Francine's
Version -- Hezekiah's Version
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